


Secret

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (light), BDSM, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Sex, Valve Fingering (Transformers), Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: "Ratchet and Rodimus loved to tease. To edge Drift and lead him on until he was desperate. But this? This is something so much more intense."Drift being made to wear a vibe plug while he goes about his dayRatchet and Rodimus love to tease





	Secret

Ratchet and Rodimus loved to tease. To edge Drift and lead him on until he was desperate. But this? This is something so much more intense.

  
The morning had started with Rodimus waking up and feeling a little handsy, letting his servos run along Drift's frame where it was sandwiched between the orange speedster and Ratchet. Ratchet was quickly woken up by Drift huffing and moaning and running hot against him. The medic vaguely registered halting little thrusts against his leg that promptly stopped as soon as Drift realized that Ratchet was no longer deep in recharge. Instead, he opted to look up at Ratchet with big, pleading optics as Rodimus snaked a servo around Drift's waist and down his plating. Drift was always so easy to get turned on, and Ratchet joining in did nothing to calm him down. Soon enough, Ratchet was kissing him while Rodimus was rubbing his digits over his conjunx's closed interface panels.

  
Drift’s feeble, half hearted requests to slow down or stop because he had meetings to go to later were mostly ignored, save for when both of the other slowed to ask Drift is he really did wish to cease. When the swordsmech replied with a little huff and a veiled “well, you can keep going if you want,” Rodimus especially took it as a cue to press further.

  
While each of the bots on either side of Drift loved up his frame and his lips, they weren’t giving him their full attention. No, they were on a private comm link with each other, conversing about what they should do with their handful of needy speedster. Ratchet was the one to bring up the idea, so devious, it could only be him of course. Rodimus agreed absolutely and they set to work on revving Drift up.

  
Both knew that it wouldn’t take much longer for them to get Drift to where they wanted him, by the time they had decided on a plan Drift had already popped his panels. One of Ratchet’s servos moved from Drift’s jawline to rub along down his frame, Rodimus sneaking his hand between Drift’s legs only for the swordsmech to gasp and squeeze his thighs together when he felt his spike being toyed with. Drift rolled his hips in long, languid motions, his pelvic plating meeting Rodimus’ servo on each push.

  
Ratchet nipped at Drift’s lip before pulling back and reaching out to give Rodimus’ arm a tap. The orange speedster drew his servo back and Ratchet reached down, making Drift shiver in excitement of getting to feel the medic’s skillful servos on him. He huffed in disappointment when Ratchet only put a single digit on the tip of his spike,

  
“Put this away.” A simple command, not so simply done. Though, Drift was well experienced with the way that Ratchet liked to play, he knows how to retract his spike should Ratchet decide that he won’t be using it this time. He whimpered as Ratchet pressed down on his spike and forced it back into its housing. In response, Drift popped his valve panel, which was immediately visited by Rodimus’ digits. The white speedster’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp. Such a beautiful sight, Drift’s kiss-bruise lips parted just slightly, his optics bright and his expression needy. He didn’t even notice Rodimus reaching behind him, to the nightstand, to retrieve something.

  
He nudged the small, silicone toy against the outer ring of Drift’s valve, which accepted it inside pliantly and easily. Drift only noticed that Ratchet and Rodimus had dome something out of the ordinary when they pulled back and stopped touching him altogether.

  
“Close your panels,” Ratchet ordered and, of course, Drift complied. His panels shut over his wet valve and he twisted in discomfort and need. He heard a click from behind him and the toy inside his valve suddenly gave a pulse of vibration.

  
Rodimus chuckled behind Drift, getting to watch his conjunx come undone so easily after just a little bit of touching. For now, Rodimus was the one in charge of the toy, he had the remote for it in his servo. He pressed one of the settings, a constant fade in/fade out vibration, and watched Drift as he keened and reached for Ratchet in front of him.

  
Drift’s servos pawed at Ratchet’s chassis and he looked up at him with the expression he usually used to persuade him into giving him what he wanted, but this time Ratchet wasn’t falling for it. He stroked his servo down Drift’s back, but did nothing more.

  
“You’re going to open up a private comm between the three of us and you’re going to do whatever you had planned for today.” Ratchet’s other servo held Drift’s chin and kept him looking up at him, “Rodimus is in charge of the remote. Tell us to stop and we will.”

  
Drift nodded and immediately opened up a comm link between them. His frame was already shivering with pent up charge. At least Ratchet didn’t say he couldn’t overload.

  
“Go clean yourself up.” Ratchet moved so Drift could get himself out from between the two frames. He stood up on shaky legs and cringed when he already felt the lubricant building up behind his panels. His pedes carried him to the washracks, and he turned on the hot stream of water.

  
Drift must have left the door open, because he very clearly heard the sound of one or both of the bots in the berthroom moving about in the berthsheets. He turned his helm and spotted them, Rodimus straddling Ratchet’s hips as they kissed, optics shut tight. Drift heard soft moans from the both of them, the comm link was still open.

  
“He’s so beautiful,” Rodimus huffed, shifting his frame on top of Ratchet’s and opening his valve panel. He lifted his hips and let Ratchet pop his spike covering, his member pressurizing to nudge against Rodimus’ valve.

  
“And he’s definitely watching us.” Ratchet chuckled, casting a quick glance over to Drift while he fully sheathed himself inside Rodimus.

  
From the washracks, under the hot stream of water and the torture of the buzzing pulses in his valve, Drift got to watch Rodimus’ gorgeous frame arch, spoiler bouncing as he filled himself with Ratchet’s spike. He admired the view of Rodimus’ lips just barely parted in those delicious, soft moans, Ratchet with his lip between his dentae, his two conjunxes simply pulling pleasure from the other. His vocalizer crackled and gave a whine that Rodimus heard over the comm, and he responded in turn with a gasp.

  
Yellow servos groping and feeling up the beck beneath him while Ratchet ran his digits up Rodimus’ slender waist, grasping and claiming it, guiding him along his spike. Rodimus grabbed Ratchet’s servos and coaxed them up to fondle his spoiler, making the young captain moan and shudder.

  
Drift couldn’t shake the cold, clammy feeling that he really shouldn’t be watching them. It settled in his tanks and he just couldn’t dismiss it. No matter how many times Ratchet and Rodimus had indulged him, let him observe their doings, Drift always felt as though he was intruding, spying and peeping on them, even when they knew full well that he was watching them.  
As if they could both tell that Drift was spiraling (and they could, he was being far too silent), Rodimus spoke up,

“Frag, Drift, you see this?” He pressed his servos down on Ratchet’s chest and pulled himself almost completely off of his spike, allowing Drift to view the slow, smooth motion as lubricant flowed freely down Ratchet’s length. “Pretty hot, right?”

Drift could practically feel Ratchet rolling his optics.

“I know you’re watching us,” Rodimus hummed, “I love it, I always love putting on a show for you.” Drift caught a glimpse of the backs of Rodimus’ thighs and his aft, coated and sticky with lubricant, before the speedster wiggled his hips as best he could without dislodging the spike, and sunk back down with a shaky moan.

“Come on, Ratch’, overload in me.” He demanded, yelping when Ratchet suddenly gripped him roughly by the spoiler and drove his spike deep into Rodimus’ valve.

  
Drift’s thighs squeezed together, valve clenching around the small toy inside it. He wanted more, he wanted Rodimus’ and Ratchet’s spikes splitting him apart instead of this little nuisance that would only be a bother the rest of the day. One of his servos rubbed across his chest slowly, the other snaked down his frame as though he thought if he moved at such a gentle pace, the other two may not notice. They hadn’t given him permission to touch himself, but they didn’t explicitly withhold it either.

  
As quietly as he could, Drift disengaged his paneling and let his spike pressurize into his servo. His grip couldn’t mimic the tight, wet heat of Rodimus’ or Ratchet’s valve, it was nothing alike, but with the spectacle that was in front of him, he could put up with it.

  
“Ah, look, he’s so needy.” Ratchet said, a light laugh lacing its way into his words. Drift’s breath caught in his throat when Ratchet’s optics fell on him. “I thought I told you to put that away.”  
Drift couldn’t prevent the hot burn of shame that crossed his cheeks, but he didn’t make any effort to retract his spike. He knew Ratchet had instructed him earlier, given him an order, but he just couldn’t help it.

  
“Ratchet!” Rodimus yelped, bringing attention back to him. His optics were squeezed shut, his spoiler twitching and raised, his spike bobbing and dripping as he bounced on Ratchet’s.  
Rodimus dropped his frame, moving his servos from Ratchet’s chassis to the berth beside the medic’s helm, then slid them forward to hold himself up on his elbows. At that height, Rodimus let his lips crash into Ratchet’s, his glossa immediately filling the other’s mouth.

  
Drift moaned and his legs shook, threatening to give way as his fist quickened around his spike. Rodimus whined into Ratchet’s mouth and his whole frame was wracked with tremors as his overload coasted and crashed over his systems, dragging Ratchet over with him.

  
Rodimus broke the kiss to cry out, and Drift painted his own servo with his transfluid in time with the pulses in his valve. His back pressed against the wall, holding himself up and locking his knees until the tremors ebbed at least slightly. The flow of water from the showerhead above him quickly washed away any mess he’d made, but as Rodimus straightened his back and sat up, Drift got a good view on the bright pink fluid that colored his and Ratchet’s midsections.

  
Drift couldn’t stop the shaking of his frame, though. Oversensitive, he had to slip down the wall before his legs gave up on hold him. His valve twitched and fluttered around the still-vibrating plug, his dentae biting his lip to try to hold back any noise. His servos scraped at the tile beneath him and his legs squeezed together.

  
Having some mercy on Drift, Rodimus took out the remote and turned off the vibrations, letting the mech breathe and relax his frame.

  
“Wash up properly, this time.” Rodimus said between his panting. Drift laughed lightly and stood up on shaky legs, stepping under the hot water to get himself ready for his day.

  
Once he finished his shower, neatened himself up, he had completely forgotten the toy still inside of him. He’d kissed Ratchet and Rodimus goodbye- they were still cuddling in the berth- and left the habsuite without giving it another thought.

  
It was only when Drift was hanging out at Swerve’s towards the afternoon that he was suddenly reminded that Rodimus did have full control over his pleasure. The toy forcefully buzzed to life, almost making him spill his drink as he brought it to his lips. His legs jumped almost hard enough to hit the underside of the table, but once the initial surprise was gone, he managed to continue fairly easily. He finished up his drink and Swerve swung by his table,

  
“Hey, everything good?” The minibot asked. Drift hoped that he couldn’t hear the buzzing.

  
“Of course,” Drift said, surprising himself with how composed his voice is.

“You stopping by for a specific reason? It’s not really normal to see you come around so early.”

“Mm, I have a meeting later so I’m just loosening up a bit. Plus, Ratchet and Rodimus have a… Surprise planned for me. I need to be out of the room for a bit so they can get it ready.” He said in a half lie, half hope-that-they’re-going-to-frag-him-through-the-berth-tonight. He knew that Rodimus at least must be listening very intently, even if he muted his mic.

  
“Oh, well I hope the meeting goes well!” Swerve hummed before skipping back behind the bar. Drift checked his internal chronometer, he decided that he might as well get going to the meeting.  
As soon as he stood up, though, the vibrator got turned up a notch or ten. He was almost sent straight to the floor with the resulting stumble. He grabbed onto the back of the booth that he was just sitting on and righted himself before trying to leave as though nothing odd had just happened.

  
No matter how immune Drift had thought he’d become, he could tell that his charge was rising higher and higher. By the time he had gotten halfway across the ship and, halfway to the office, he was teetering on the edge of another overload. He straightened his back and tried to keep walking while his optics scanned the hallway and its walls.

  
A saving moment for him, he found one of the storage closets that were interspersed throughout the ship. Without a second thought, he threw open the door and stepped in, slamming the door shut behind him and ensuring that it was locked.

  
The room itself was practically empty, walls lined with empty shelves embraced by the dim light above his helm. This was probably the best scenario he could have asked for. Drift stumbled to a section of the wall with no shelves and leaned back against it for support while he disengaged both panels. His spike extended from its housing immediately, red biolights pulsing and giving the space a dim glow. His valve was slick and dripping, he was half expecting the toy to simply slip out when he popped his valve panel, yet it remained in his tight valve, still buzzing aggressively.  
His servo wrapped around his spike and his other digits rubbing against his node had small arcs of charge dancing along his plating. The light above his helm was dim compared to his own, his bright optics, his biolights, the visible electricity that leapt across his joints.

  
“Oh, Drift,” Rodimus unmuted his side of the comms. “So built up? Didn’t you have an overload this morning, getting off to the sight of me riding Ratchet’s spike?”

  
Drift was about to come up with a comment, but really he couldn’t think of one. His mind was too rich with need and want that it clogged any thought that he might have had.

  
“Just so you know,” Rodimus said, “Ratchet can’t come to the comm right now. His mouth is… Otherwise occupied.”

  
That explained the slight shake to Rodimus’ voice, the little waver in his tone. Nothing major, the captain had long since learned how to keep his voice in check. He’d done this and things like this on calls a million times before, whether the comm be between him and Drift, or with Ultra Magnus and Megatron. It wasn’t always Ratchet under him, sometimes it was Drift and sometimes he was simply on his own with his digits deep in his valve or his servo fisting his spike.

  
Rodimus paused his talking long enough for Drift to catch the sound of an obscene, almost comical slurping noise and the note of Ratchet’s heavy breathing.

  
“He’s doing so well on by spike,” Rodimus said, then, more pointedly and not exactly directed at Drift, “And if he wants my pede on his, then he’d better get his mouth back on mine.” The sound of Ratchet’s exvents hushed and Drift assumed that he resumed his task.

  
“Rodimus…” Drift whined, smoothing his thumb over the head of his spike. He was close from before Rodimus decided to open the comm back up.

  
“You know what’s happening, right?” Rodimus chuckled, “I’m in my chair at the habsuite, Ratchet’s between my legs,” His voice was languid and slow, “He’s lips are stretched wide around my spike and he’s rutting up against my pede.”

  
Drift mewled, his resolve cracking and his back slipping just a little further down the wall. He hadn’t even realized when his optics had powered themselves down, but as his spike grew slicker and slicker with lubricant, he couldn’t see and he didn’t care. All he needed was the harsh vibration in his valve and Rodimus’ low, sultry voice in his audio receptor.

  
The rest of Rodimus’ speech was made up of sweet nothings and little comments to both Drift and Ratchet, but it still charged Drift up so much. A loud cry and Drift was overloading all over his hand, bright pink spilling over his digits and dripping from his valve.

  
“Now, Drift,” Rodimus huffed from the other side of the comm, out of breath, Drift assumed he’d overloaded down Ratchet’s intake. “What are you going to do with all that mess?”  
The realization hit Drift that he didn’t have any real way to clean up after himself.

  
“Want me to come help you, sweetspark?” Rodimus asked, mocking, doting notes in his voice.

  
Drift couldn’t very well come up with a response, he found his legs squeezing together again as Rodimus didn’t turn off the vibrator. He let out a shaky moan as a shiver wracked his frame.  
“If you can wait until I get there, I can help clean you up.” Rodimus hummed, knowing what he was doing to Drift.

  
“T-the- ah- the storage c-closet closest to the bar,” Drift managed to stammer out a sentence, having just enough mind to be embarrassed by the condition he was in, but he wasn’t sure if he would still care by the time Rodimus arrived.

  
“Alright, baby, let me have Ratch’ clean up my pede. I’m giving the remote to him, I’ll be there in a bit.”  
Drift hoped that Ratchet might have some mercy on him, but when the vibrations did cease he realized that Rodimus and Ratchet were on the same page with each other. Rodimus cut his comm and Ratchet opened his.

  
“Rodimus is on his way to you,” Ratchet said, obviously out of breath.

  
“You- ngh- you sound like you had a g-good time,” Drift replied, trying to manage his tone enough to sound mocking.  
“I could say the same about you.”

  
Within the minute, Rodimus was knocking on the door to the storage closet. Drift didn’t give it a second thought before unlocking it for him, and only when he saw Rodimus did he realize that there was a chance that it was someone else there.

  
“What, you didn’t even want to make sure it was me?” Rodimus caught on to the same thing, but dwelled on it no longer as he approached Drift, now appearing much shorter than him after having slid down the wall he was leaning against. Rodimus kneeled in front of Drift and guided the other to sit down.

  
“You sure made a mess of yourself,” Rodimus took hold of one of Drift’s servos- the one that was rubbing against his valve- and took it in his mouth, glossa cleaning off the lubricant. Next he pressed a light kiss to the tip of Drift’s oversensitive spike before leaning down and taking it down his intake, his lips pressing against Drift’s plating. Drift almost screamed, the sensation raced and crashed through his circuitry with enough force to hurt, but the pleasure of Rodimus’ skillful mouth overpowered it, if only barely.

  
“Rodimus!” Drift gasped. One pede came up to rest across Rodimus’ lowered back, the other pressing up on its toecaps. His finials scraped lightly against the wall behind him as he pressed back against it.

  
Rodimus had no real intention of cleaning Drift up. He had helped Ratchet plan out today, and their main objective was set as ‘Torture Drift as much as possible’, and they were going to do that. He pulled off of Drift’s spike with a slow lick along the underside and took it in his servo, a tighter-than-necessary grip giving Drift a jolt. Rodimus lowered his helm further, turning his attention to Drift’s valve. The swordsmech’s pleas went unnoticed, his soft, stammering voice repeating a mantra of “Please, oh, Rodimus, please” and its variations, interrupted with sharp moans.  
Rodimus’ glossa slicked over Drift’s anterior node, making the swordsmech’s servos come up to grasp at Rodimus’ helm. Not pushing him away, not pulling him down, just holding and squeezing and shaking. His EM field was a mess against the captain’s, sharp and uncontrolled, so unlike Drift.

  
His hips pushed up and his leg twitched around Rodimus’ helm,

  
“Slag, Roddy- ohh, frag,” Drift could barely get any words out, slurring them together into a shivering moan. “I’m- I’m gonna overload a-again, Rodimus- _Rodimus_!”

  
With a cry, Drift came undone. He utterly fell apart. His spike spurted transfluid in thick, heavy streaks across his body, his whole frame quaked and his grip on Rodimus’ helm became tight enough to almost dent. He canted his hips up, pushing the dark, wet mesh of his valve to Rodimus’ lips, the mech very willing to make his conjunx scream.

  
Finally, Ratchet let the vibrator tone down, then turn off. Drift was at last able to relax, leaning back against the wall, exhausted. His exvents came in huffs and his vents dumped heat into the small room. A light shine from condensation only made Drift look even more heavenly to Rodimus, who was wiping his face on his servo and licking his digits clean.

  
“Ratch’?” Rodimus commed, “I think we should just cancel Drift’s little meeting thing. Call Megatron and say that I said I’m the captain and I say so. We can put it off ‘til later, if he really wants.”  
Rodimus leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Drift, pulling his worn out conjunx to lean on him. He got confirmation from Ratchet that they successfully moved Drift’s meeting, and Rodimus thanked him. Drift would have, but his processor was still too foggy and pleasure clouded to talk.

  
“I think,” Rodimus stood up, helping Drift up too, “That we should just take care of our darling today. What do you say, Ratch’?”

“I say get him back here, I’ll get a bath running.”

“Copy that.” Rodimus responded, giving Drift a quick kiss to the top of his helm as the white mech was still leaning on him. Drift’s digit tapped Rodimus, chest, getting his attention,

“Roddy?” He said, voice soft and worn, “I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe.” Rodimus stepped towards the door, “Let’s just see if we can get you to the room, now. I’m sure Ratchet would love to see you like this.”


End file.
